


respect doesn't make history

by Charlie_chan16



Series: are you perhaps short of a marble?! [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Gen, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Viper School (The Witcher), Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_chan16/pseuds/Charlie_chan16
Summary: How Jaskier became the feral little shit Geralt knows today.
Series: are you perhaps short of a marble?! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122026
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	respect doesn't make history

**Author's Note:**

> Suprise!!! 
> 
> I doubt any of you thought that this could be made into a series - I know I certainly didn't. But the idea bowled me over like a freight train and here we are. 
> 
> This part is literally backstory, But it can't be read as a stand alone - in my opinion anyway take it as you will. There is meant to be another two parts before Jaskier meets Geralt which will explain some things so look forward to them in the near future! And if you haven't yet and you can't wait for more please do check out the other part in this series! 
> 
> I hope you're all keeping happy, safe and sane <3

Jaskier didn’t remember much of his life before Gorthur Gvaed. Although, none of them did. That was just how their training worked; cleanse them of their past to rebuild them as monsters. At first it had only been Jaskier, Ivar and Kolgrim within the castle, the sounds of the animals of the mountain and the roaring wind their only companions. The two boys didn’t mind however spending their days exploring the Keep thoroughly. Ivar would often tell them not to worry about loneliness, that others would be joining them soon. 

It had been a quiet time as Ivar thought them too young to begin training and he would tell them as such, locking the door to the courtyard and stowing away the key. However, as more boys joined the roudier and louder it became. Jaskier suddenly found himself flourishing with the interactions. 

First came the twins; Aukes and Serrit, stumbling in from the cold with Ivar at their backs. They regaled Kolgrim and Jaskier with a tall tale of a daring escape from Niflgaardian soldiers. Then a few months later Letho arrived with a smile that could rival the sun, immediately taking to the other four boys with an ease the others would envy. Gerring and finally Rai joined them soon after, Ivar absent from the keep for longer than usual because he collected them one after the other. 

As their family grew bigger, the training suddenly began. Ivar took pride in how each of them could handle his instruction, Jaskier could see it in his eyes as he watched them spar fiercely and ferociously. 

As students of Viper School they took lessons in poisons daily, and often Ivar used one of them as a demonstration of their effects. Of course, he’d have the antidote to hand, always injecting it into their veins at what seemed like the last second. 

“It’s part of your training,” he’d say with a malicious glint in his eyes as he watched them squirm. 

Ivar wasn’t necessarily cruel to them. They knew his methods were to toughen them up before they were let loose on the continent. But they didn’t know much better back then, and it didn’t stop Jaskier from wondering what it was like to have a parental figure who cared for him. 

In his younger years Jaskier would lie in his bed, his covers pulled up and over his brow as he listened to the denizens that roamed the forest surrounding the keep. He would scrunch his eyes shut tight, wrinkling his nose and try to imagine what his mother was like. He knew he had one at some point, all of them had, so he’d try to think of what she would look like, feel like, sound like. 

Often he wouldn’t drag up much. The feeling of a gentle hand on his head, nails scratching at his scalp with loving care. Or the sound of a lullaby hummed into the night around them with an ease and tone that suggested experience. When he opened his eyes he would desperately clutch for those sensations, trying with all his might to hold them close to the chest as he rolled over to sleep. They would be gone by morning however, replaced with the sound of Ivar calling them all out of bed. 

He knew one thing about his brothers in the Viper Keep; they treated him as the baby of the lot. Granted they didn’t know whether he was the youngest, their age not important as the cocktail of serums and potions that would eventually be pumped through their veins kept them from ageing, but he was the shortest and that seemed reason enough. In the halls of the keep, and in the training grounds that surrounded it, it wasn’t his name that was called when they wanted him, but their own nickname given to him. 

‘Baby Fang’ they called him, and the term of endearment was often followed by a hand ruffling his hair and a fond laugh. He didn’t mind it - in fact he’d almost go as far as to say he was  _ proud  _ of his title amongst his brothers - but he didn’t tell them that, taking to pouting fiercely whenever it echoed across the stone of the keep. Jaskier had even heard Ivar use his ‘title’, but only during those rare times where he had to reprimand Jaskier for some form of trouble or another. 

Although the students of the Viper school were thick as thieves  _ outside  _ of the training room, within the four stone walls and sand that covered the ground they became the reptiles their school was named after. Their tongues would be quick to insult, and their fangs even faster to injure, often resulting in their first aid supplies running dangerously low. Jaskier usually volunteered for the job of getting more, he found he quite liked venturing to the town that sat at the bottom of the mountain.

It wasn’t until the boys were of an age - or so they supposed - that Ivar handed them each an animal. He called them pets, and told the boys with a stern look that it was their job to care for them. Jaskier had clutched his sunbeam snake close to his chest with a firm nod, watching as Rai stared at his raven in slight confusion and Kolgrim cooed over his wolf pup. 

They had speculated that evening that it was a training exercise - Serrit even put out the idea that they’d awake the next morning to find their companions skinned and killed - and some thought that it was a test to see how well they can bond with another being. Jaskier wasn’t sure what to think, and for the first few weeks of having his sunbeam snake he was wary of getting close to it. 

They spent the next few years training with their pets, each of them growing closer to their animal companions until one wouldn’t be seen without the other. Jaskier had taken to calling his snake Xen, short for Xenopeltis - which was its scientific name - and the reptile could often be found wrapped around his shoulders tightly. 

It turned out that they had actually been a test as Ivar called them out to the training courtyard earlier than usual, handing each of them a blade. They had each grown in the years they’d spent in the keep, some of them easily towering over Ivar, but that didn’t mean they weren’t intimidated by him. It showed when he turned his gaze towards each of them and a shiver ran through the group. 

“This is your final test before you earn your medallions,” he began quietly, his voice carrying across the floor of the courtyard easily. “You must kill your companion, to show you have the strength of will and ruthlessness needed of you as students of Viper school.” 

They didn’t dare say a word, but Jaskier could sense the shock between his brothers. He himself found he couldn’t even look Xen in the eyes out of repulsion. He didn’t want to do this, and he knew none of the others did either. They’d each grown close to their animals and to be ordered to kill them out of cold blood warred with the bond they’d created. 

Ivar’s cold gaze landed on Letho, his quirked eyebrow jolting him into action. Jaskier could see the slight shake in his hands as he reached to cradle his fox kit. He could watch as Letho brought his blade to the fox’s neck, easily slicing it. The whines that pierced the courtyard would haunt Jaskier’s dreams as each boy silenced their companion. 

When it came to be his turn, Jaskier felt something within himself go cold. It scared and relieved him as he picked Xen up from the ground, allowing himself to savour the cool feel of her scales against his fingers one last time. Once it was finished Ivar nodded to each of them, letting them go to breakfast before training. None of them spoke as they sat at the table, keeping their eyes glued to the plates sitting innocently under the candlelight. 

Jaskier would feel the aching emptiness where Xen sat on his shoulders for years, the hole in his heart and the numbing cold following him wherever he went. He never knew whether his brothers felt the same but sometimes he’d see Kolgrim reach down as if to scratch his wolf behind his ears and stall suddenly at the empty air that met him. Rai once reached back with a piece of meat that he sometimes fed to his raven but halted in surprise when it wasn’t snatched from his fingers. 

They knew that they had to do what they did. That they wouldn’t be able to become what they’d trained to be for years if they hadn’t, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

They needed to be cold. They were Vipers; ruthless and cruel. 


End file.
